As it is, always
by Maaya
Summary: Tamaki hadn't gone on for too long this time. Perhaps his throat really was hurting. Tamaki x Haruhi


Tamaki/Haruhi, PG, Ficlet.

**Note: **Actually, I don't remember if it was stated whether the academy had dorms or not, or if our host club members lived there. Which I should have thought about just a little bit earlier. Please indulge me here?

**As it is, always  
by Maaya**

----

Normally, Haruhi would have confronted Tamaki about the pictures of her that she found in his top drawer--not just pictures, hundreds of them, thousands, was this why his top drawer was so_ large_?--closest to his bed, but this was not the time.

Curiosity killed the cat. Haruhi did not know what she was doing in his room in the first place. Why she had opened that drawer.

What she did know was that she wanted to get out. Before he woke up.

"They're getting a laugh out of this, aren't they?" Haruhi muttered to no one in particular. Or perhaps, somewhat directed to the currently not present set of twins. "Why do I have to do this, anyway?" (The latter of which was her most asked question ever since ending up in that third, "unused"--hah--music room, that day. The first question of which had increased remarkably in use as well. Thanks to, yes, the twins. Who else?) She sighed.

And tumbled.

She really didn't want to know what that just had been.

(Was Tamaki a thong person? Erk.)

The glass of water had escaped from her grip, too. What a mess.

"What--?" Tamaki's somewhat disoriented, sleepy voice was heard from the king-seized bed in the middle of the room. In moments like that, he almost sounded cute, no, she hadn't just thought that.

"Um," Haruhi untangled herself and stood, rubbing her bottom. It wasn't as sore as it could have been, thanks to the overly thick, purple carpet that covered most of the dorm rooms in this wing, but she was used to falling, and she knew the rituals. Stand. Rub. Wince. "I...Kaoru and Hikaru--"

Too late, because Tamaki had already set his eyes on the spilled glass of water and the pack of pills she still had in her hand. He stood. "Haruhi..."

Oh no.

"You brought me headache tablets?" He was starting with the vulnerability. She winced. Probably proceeding with something heroic charming, his favourite. "I..." He flicked his head, allowing Haruhi to catch just a hint of sad, blue—Tamaki preferred the term violet--eyes. (Where they watery, or tearful?) "You were worried about me, weren't you? I'm so sorry for making your heart ache, it is unforgivable. I..."

"Actually, the twins said you were feeling ill," Haruhi held up her hands, knowing it was futile. "They handed me the pills and told me to give them to you." In retrospect, it was stupid of her. This school probably had personnel specially assigned to take care of pill-deliveries. Or full-fledged medical care, most probably. Again, she sighed.

"...but fear not, I am certain it is nothing life threatening, even if my throat is hurting and my head throbbing, I will bear with it."

"Actually." Haruhi shook her head. Her ears only ached a little--Tamaki hadn't gone on for too long this time. Perhaps his throat really was hurting. "I think that_ that_ is a mere cold."

Tamaki sat down on the bed again, and coughed twice in his hand. He really did look rather pitiful. Hair muffled, eyes a bit red. (Not from faked tears, she concluded.) He was a bit pale as well, she noted.

Oh well.

Haruhi stood, took the glass, and went to the bathroom to refill it. The water spilled on the carpet would dry on its own, she supposed. Or someone else would take care of it--she caught herself. This school was spoiling her. She brought a towel to press against the carpet while she was at it.

"Here," she said, offering the water and two pills to Tamaki.

He looked up at her. (Now those were faked tears, alright.) "Haruhi..."

Haruhi had to pity him. Either he was wimpy or rich people rarely ever got sick. He was beginning to look horrible. "Take those and you'll feel better, Tamaki-senpai." She turned, mindful of the pair of underwear on the floor (why hadn't the cleaners picked them up?) and wandered towards the door.

"Stay?"

She stopped, and thought about the germs. "Erm."

"Please?" There was that vulnerability again. It drove her insane how she was almost beginning to wonder if it was actually real.

She turned, and half-smiled. "If you get rid of those photos in that drawer, Tamaki-senpai, I promise I'll stay."

----

**Epilogue**

When Haruhi got sick, a week later, of course Tamaki wanted to apologize by bringing her water, pills of all kinds, order a special team of medics, and why was he holding a frilly, silk nightdress in one hand?

Haruhi locked the door.

----

**end**


End file.
